Family Ties
by EnglandBabe1997
Summary: Narcissa hasn't ever really cared what side of the war her family is on, she just wants them safe.
1. Chapter 1

**This might be a one-shot, but I don't think it will be - I just need to find time to write a second chapter x I've had this in my head for a while, so... I always felt really sympathetic towards Narcissa x Please read and review xx**

Narcissa had never really wanted to become a Death Eater. She was the good one, the baby of the family, the one who could do no wrong. Too afraid to follow in either the footsteps of Bellatrix or Andromeda.

When she'd first met Lucius she'd been in first year. He'd been in second year but he'd already noticed her, the youngest daughter of a prominent pureblood family. She'd noticed him, the scion of the Malfoy line, the only heir. It was her duty as a Black to notice.

But it wasn't until her fourth year she was really interested. Until then she'd been keeping her options open, considering all the available heirs and buttering them up. She already knew she was beautiful and being a female Black made her desirable, despite the black mark on their record for the eldest girl having married a mudblood.

She'd been sitting by the lake, alone, contemplating doing her homework and pointedly not admiring the beauty of the view (Black's were not supposed to show emotion after all). He'd sat next to her and they'd simply talked for the next ten minutes, the kind of talk Slytherin was famous for, talking without actually saying anything. He was good at it - and so was she. And in this time, where more and more people seemed to lose the art of proper Slytherin conversation, that was fairly impressive - incredibly impressive in fact. He'd just been moved to the top of her eligible bachelors list.

It wasn't exactly hard. He was handsome, wealthy and intelligent. What more could a girl ask for?

Bu the time she was in fifth year they were officially courting, as sanctioned by both their families. Her mother and aunt were delighted, as was her sister (who was engaged to marry the Lestrange scion). She dared not think of what Andromeda thought.

Lucius' family also seemed happy with the match, a thought that pleased her.

Maybe, just maybe, if the political climate remained stable, she would have a happy, peaceful and loving marriage.

When she'd walked down the aisle two and a half years later she was still hoping.

* * *

By the time she was pregnant, the political climate was increasingly unstable, even if Lucius had not officially decreed his side yet. But she knew what he would chose. And would follow him because she loved him.

After her son was born Narcissa was no longer particularly interested in the political climate, except for when she was worrying about her son's future. She made sure to keep all of these thoughts locked behind tight mental barriers, even within her own home. Her and Lucius were not as close as they once were, as he drifted away slightly, closer to his Lord, with the promises of more power, more wealth.

Narcissa didn't really care for the promises. She just wanted him to come home to her.

That had always been her problem. She was too emotional for a Black, no matter how good she was at pretending otherwise.

Her son was the light of her life and she was not afraid to say that she'd attempted to coddle him. She's been stopped by her husband who had regretfully told her that spoilt children were of no use to the Dark Lord. By now Narcissa didn't really care who was in charge.

She wanted her husband at home and her son away from his nanny.

It wasn't until over a year later that it happened. She had been waiting at the window for her husband, her son fast asleep in the crib. Tonight she had put him to bed, something she was only allowed to do rarely. She had missed it.

The night was dark and still, something ominous in the air. She thought that tonight, maybe, everything would change, even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly why she thought that. Her sons blonde hair shone in the bright of the moon, like starlight, the only hope in the darkness and she could see the reflection of her own blonde tresses glint in the darkness.

Out of the darkness, like smoke, swirled a figure, landing on the only spot you could apparate to on the grounds. It was a carefully hidden secret and required a password as well as admittance from the wards and all of those told her that it was most likely her husband. As the figure for closer, she could see for certain that it was, his own hair practically glowing, as he sprinted for the house. Seeing his frantic movements Narcissa abandoned the window and ran down the stairs, praying she hadn't disturbed her son. They met in the grand hall and she practically launched herself at him and put a hand around his wrist to ground him.

He blinked, his wife coming into focus before abruptly turning and dragging her into the study, which he knew was well protected against eavesdroppers.

"The Dark Lord is gone!" He exclaimed the moment the door swung shut.

"What?" Narcissa gaped.

"He has been vanquished. By the Potter boy!"

"The Potter boy? He's younger than Draco!"

Lucius nodded absently. "I don't know entirely what happened yet. Only that of the Dark Lord has gone we are all in danger."

Narcissa bit her lip, thinking of all the terrible repercussions, already imagining herself and her beloved husband in Azkaban until they were driven mad and her son taken from her and raised by others - maybe even bloodtraitors like the Weasley's!

But even underneath that she felt a faint glimmer of relief.

* * *

The next few years were difficult. There were trials and bribes and disdainful looks from others, those who had known exactly what her family had done and her relationship to Bellatrix Lestrange, the most feared and hated witch in a hundred years. But in spite of that there we're supportive looks from her fellow traditional families - the true ones - and her husband spent more time at home and the nanny was fired. She had her family back.

If a few glares from people she'd never liked were the price to pay for that then she didn't care.

All she'd ever wanted was her family.

Her son started getting older. He looked more and more like his father with each passing day and sounded more and more like a pureblood as well. She couldn't help but think that one day that mouth of his might get him into trouble with one of Dumbledore's men.

Before her very eyes he was growing up, going to Hogwarts. There had been pages and pages of news about the Potter boy re-entering the magical world and Narcissa hated it, a reminder of the life she'd once lived and her family being torn apart by a war she had no interest in. But still her hatred was overshadowed but the excitement that her son was finally leaving for Hogwarts and the slight loneliness that gave her, her son away at school and her husband away mingling with the other high society wizards and their wives. She didn't really have a particular interest in hovering on her husband's arm like a dumb blonde bauble for the whole night.

Her year passed slowly, in her loneliness and with near daily letters to her son, punctuated with packages of sweets and other treats. When she'd heard that the Potter boy had been allowed into the Quidditch team she'd been furious that her own son hadn't been offered the swim opportunity.

Talk about Dumbledore and unfairness.

At the end of the year there had been some hushed rumours of the Dark Lord and the Potter boy but she hadn't really listened to them, too glad to have her beloved son home.

* * *

The summer passed quickly, far too quickly for her liking. Her son had barely seemed to be there at all, at his 'friends' houses or with his father in the basement receiving training and new, more advanced spells. Draco went back to school in the September, fully expecting to get on the Quidditch team now that he was allowed to. Narcissa had been expecting that, even if she hadn't been expecting to foot the bill for the entire team's brooms.

Over the course of the year there were whispers about the Chamber of Secrets, which had been closed even when her father was at Hogwarts, and stories of attacks on students. When Draco had refused to come home for Christmas she had barely restrained herself from sending a Howler to change his mind. She wanted him away from that ridiculous death trap of a school - and soon.

Her husband was always away or hidden in his office, holding secret meeting with old friends - Death Eaters Narcissa knew. She hated it, the danger it put their family in - watching people who were well known criminals wander in and out of the house in broad daylight.

Eventually Lucius went to Hogwarts to sack Dumbledore, something she rejoiced at, even if she hated the target it had painted on her family from his people. The old fool was back soon enough in any event, through some interference from the Potter boy. The entirety of the incident had never been truly revealed to her but it had cultivated in her husband losing his place on the Board of Governors and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

Her son had come home only days later and they'd spent the next few together, Draco at home and Lucius not at the Ministry, no matter how much Fudge needed him to breathe. She hadn't felt this happy in years, not since she had first married Lucius or since Draco had been born.

She knew the moment would never last but she hoped it would anyway.

It didn't. Halfway through her sons holidays her husband came home with the news that her once bloodtraitor cousin had apparently escaped Azkaban.

She wasn't quite sure what to think. Her and Sirius had never gotten on all that well, especially after he was sorted into Gryffindor. She'd always thought it was funny how he'd turned on his friends - it had seemed uncharacteristic of him.

Either way, he was now a mass murderer, whether he'd betrayed the Potters or not, and she worried for her son's safety at Hogwarts.

At the Platform that year she gave him a tight smile and hugged him tightly, ignoring his attempts to squirm away for once. She almost kissed him on the cheek but decided against the embarrassment, instead nodding at him once more before disapparating, her husband having been unable to see their son off in the recent fiasco that was her cousin escaping.

She worried for the rest of the year and made him come home for Christmas.

* * *

The next year, something even darker was stirring. It reminded her of the times before the war, back when the Dark Lord had been rising. The Triwizard Tournament was being held again, for the first time in centuries. It was far more than suspicious.

So she wasn't really surprised at the spectacle the Quidditch World Cup had turned in to. She half expected her husband to be one of the men outside - and he probably was, but what worried her the most at the minute was the fact that she couldn't find her son.

Where was he?

Her heart pounded furiously and she was twitchy and short-tempered for the whole half an hour he had been missing.

When she'd found him again she'd hugged him tight and refused to let him go - and she probably wouldn't ever let go again.

She'd had to have sometime - particularly since he was a male pureblood. He was supposed to be setting an example, not being smothered by his mother.  
She spent most of her son's fourth year in a state of panic, listening to her son complain that Potter was competing in the Tournament, so why couldn't he? and watching her husband's dark mark get clearer and clearer.

And on the night of the third task, so close to the end of the year, her husband had clutched at his arm and then disapparated. Narcissa already knew what had happened.

This had happened before.

But it would not happen again, not like that. Her family would be protected.


	2. Chapter 2

**Can I have just one review for this? Please? I'm sorry this is a bit choppy, but you already know what happens in the books, I just wanted to see it from Narcissa's perspective x I've really enjoyed writing this but this will remain a one-shot (I tell myself now) x Please read and review x**

The Dark Lord had risen again.

Her family, already never the same again after the first war, would be torn apart - she knew that already.

Lucius would return to the Dark Lord, to save them all, and her son would follow.

Her darling son.

She knew she couldn't stop it - not unless she wanted to get them all killed. But she could delay it for as long as possible - and boy would she try to.

She would not willingly let her son near the Dark Lord. Not yet, not ever.

* * *

The next year was tense. The Dark Lord had not yet spent time in their home, knowing that Lucius couldn't afford to come under suspicion, but her husband still spent the majority of his time whispering into the ear of the Minister for Magic, against the old fool and the Potter brat.

That year her son was safe.

But her husband wasn't.

He was arrested at the Ministry for Magic, her home searched, herself taken into custody. Luckily she had been released quickly, and before the end of school, giving her time to prepare for her son.

He was bitter and angry about his father's arrest and never before had he looked so much like all the things she hated in this family.

She had only gone to see Lucius twice.

* * *

Her son had joined the Dark Lord. Barely sixteen and he'd been trapped into a fate she'd never wanted for him, punished for the sins of his father. At least he had Severus to watch over him, someone who cared - his godfather.

She would make sure that Severus kept a very close eye on her son, preventing him from doing anything stupid in an attempt to follow his orders. He would not go to Azkaban.

She would not - could not - lose them both. Not to that terrible place.

She had seen her eldest sister, more unhinged and volatile than ever, hanging on to sanity by a precarious thread that dangled backwards and forwards.

It was still her sister.

Only this was a form of her that Narcissa despised, twisted and insane. She saw how she could look - how her husband could look, if this war went badly for them.

* * *

Her year was long. The Dark Lord stopped by the house now - there was no need to keep Lucius out of anyone's suspicions, and they were well enough warded for that anyway.

There were whispers of what her son was doing, of the attempts on the old headmasters life, usually in the form of her husband, still shaking in post-cruciatus tremors at their sons failures.

By December it was rare for him to even make it home.

But he always did.

* * *

She didn't have the dark mark herself. As a loyal and trusted follower's wife, it had never been required of her, and declaring her loyalties as brazenly as that had never been her style, even if the Blacks as a whole had been fond of the technique.

Either way, she'd managed to bow out of being marked, one of the few followers to accomplish the feat.

She couldn't help feel like her son had paid the price for her unblemished skin and wished she could do it all over again.

Her son shouldn't have to suffer like this.

Her son wouldn't have to suffer like this. Never again.

She locked up the thought tight behind her mental barriers.

* * *

Draco had managed it. Draco had succeeded in what even the Dark Lord had failed to accomplish.

Only he hadn't.

Severus had, instead on her son.

Draco had failed in his task and for that he had paid the price. She hadn't even been there, but her husband had watched their son scream and stood by and done nothing.

She couldn't understand him sometimes. Sometimes she didn't want to.

Narcissa couldn't get the mental image out of her head, her son writhing and shrieking on the floor like a common muggle.

Sometimes she thought it was better when the Dark Lord was gone.

She knew it was better when there hadn't been a Dark Lord in the first place.

But neither of those mattered now. Now the Dark Lord was angry and her husband and her son were in the crossfire.

During the Dark Lord's time at Malfoy Manor Narcissa had seen many horrific things, many things she'd wished she'd not see again. Murder had happened at the dinner table, in the bedrooms, in the dungeons. Their dungeons had been transformed into torture chambers, sadistically ruled over by Bellatrix and her husband. She could hear them cackling wildly if she dared to walk past.

Her son had been tortured, been forced to torture others.

Her patience for the Dark Lord snapped just a little bit more.

She just wanted this to end.

* * *

The tension was mounting. The resistance continued to fight, even in the absence of Potter and Narcissa couldn't even send her son off to Hogwarts to protect him from the horrors that were happening in his home.

And then one day the Snatchers arrived at the door, claiming to have Potter and his friends in their possession.

She had entered the drawing room to find her sister salivating over the bodies and the fearful look in her sons eyes as he watched.

She knew he was lying. She was his mother.

The Potter boy was in her house.

And she couldn't bring herself to truly care.

She'd stayed out of the way as much as possible, keeping her son to the edges of the room and sending him off to the restrained prisoners rather than let him watch his deranged aunt torture a school mate.

The ensuing calamity had her dive for the floor as her crystal chandelier exploded over head and the house elf disapperated and her sister shrieked in fury, and the first thing Narcissa did was check that her son was safe.

* * *

He wasn't for very long, not after the Dark Lord found out that they'd had Potter in their clutches and they'd let him escape. She'd tasted the cruciatus before, but never like this.

When she'd heard that her sisters Gringotts vault had been broken in to, she'd feared for the even more. But ultimately there had been no need.

After all who needed torture when you could start a war?

* * *

Her son was at Hogwarts. Her son was at _Hogwarts_. Hogwarts, about to go to war, about to be torn to rubble.

Her son was in the middle of everything that was going on and not particularly liked by either side. She didn't care what her orders had been, that she could be injured.

She was damn well finding her Draco.

* * *

This was like nothing she'd seen before, war on a terrible scale. There hadn't been many dead on the grounds, where she had been, but there were enough and, more than ever, she hated what her son had seen. He was never supposed to see anything like this, not ever.

Only now he was involved, dragged into a war that didn't concern either of them.

She waited in forest at her orders, practically vibrating with tension at the need to find her son.

* * *

By the time Potter came down to the forest she didn't really care who won the battle. Right now she had a missing son to locate and she hasn't even seen her husband.

She just needed her family back together.

Narcissa ignored what the Dark Lord and Potter were saying, staying tense and still, watching their movements.

The Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse and Potter made no move to deflect it, move out of the way. He simply stood there and took it and fell to the ground in the same moment as the Dark Lord. her breath climbed in her throat, the thought of ending this war all at once.

And then the Dark Lord had risen shakily to his feet, pointing at her and ordering her to check his rival.

She leant closer to feel the Potter boy's pulse and felt it flutter beneath his fingers.

She felt a moment of wonder and confusion that was quickly surpassed by the need to know if her son was alive.

And the Potter boy told her what she needed.

For that she would keep quiet.

She would do no more than that. She couldn't.

* * *

She followed the procession up to the Great Hall, hovering at the back and watching warily for her son. She found her husband first and, in his triumph, the Dark Lord didn't even seem to notice Lucius slipping away from his side to join Narcissa. He touched a gentle hand to her wrist, before both of them turned to the crowd to find Draco.

Lucius found him first, informing her with a quick squeeze of her fingers.

She glanced at him and flicked her eyes over to where he was looking, the platinum blond hair of their son lank and greasy, with dirt and dust running through it. Their eyes met and her lips trembled and she couldn't care less what was happening with Potter and the Dark Lord.

As the two rivals circled each other, the Malfoy's edged around the room, unnoticed by the spellbound crowd, and finally hugged each other tightly as the Dark Lord tumbled to the ground. Lucius and Draco both hissed slightly, their hands going to their Dark Marks, memories that could never be forgotten.

She had her family back.

She knew it would be hard. There would be even more trials and glares and possibly even Azkaban once again. Her family would be disgraced in history.

But they had each other. It didn't matter what the history books thought of them.

(Well it did, but not as much as her family did. Her son was well worth the price.)


	3. Chapter 3

**I decided to really finish this off because I was reading through some of my old works and this didn't seem complete x **

** Please can I have just one review? It doesn't have to be long or anything, but this is the longest story I've written that doesn't have any kind of feedback and I'd really like some xx I'm sorry this one is much shorter, it was just rounding everything off xx :)**

Sometimes, on the days when everything hurts, she wondered if it was worth it. Then she shakes herself because of course it is - Harry Potter himself had intervened before she could be sent to Azkaban, Draco also escaping that Fate, and even though Lucius hadn't been as lucky as the rest of them he had been released earlier than she could have expected, and in a fairly stable mental condition.

He would never be the man she had married again, but he would never be like the inmates she had seen at the Dark Lord's bidding, driven insane by the Dementor's and a need for power. Her sister had been one of those.

With the exception of a three-year long monitoring of her own magic and providing several memories of specific meetings she had come away practically scot-free, helped by the obvious lack of the Dark Mark on her arm. Once her role in the Final Battle had been explained by Potter no one had pushed too hard with her, knowing that she personally was unlikely to have taken part in any of the actual crimes, and even then for the sake of her family.

She had a grandson now, and a gorgeous daughter-in-law who was everything she could've hoped for her son and far better than the advantageous match Lucius had planned with the Parkinson's. Narcissa was not shunned by society, not as much as she had once feared in this situation, as she had been publically declared by Harry Potter to have helped in the downfall of Lord Voldemort.

She would never be accepted, nor particularly liked, but they still invited her to Ministry functions and she still mingled with the politicians wives (though not the Minister's, Kingsley Shacklebolt not being entirely accepting of former criminals).

Her life was good, not as good as it had always been neither as a child nor a newly-wed, but there were many ways that this could have gone that were far worse.

But still she wondered on days when their looks got to her and the whispers reached her ears - was it worth it?

She had lost her family, her husband lost in another world more often than not, even if he was still sane. Draco would never trust her to protect him again and he would never trust her with his son either.

Narcissa had lost both her sisters, one to death and madness, the other to death and grief. No matter how much Bellatrix's death had hurt, and she herself was surprised at how much, Andromeda's complete refusal to speak with her last living sister stung more.

Narcissa knew that her estranged sister was bringing up the werewolf child, with the aid of his godfather Harry Potter. She knew she could never be accepted there, and she would be surprised to be. Narcissa was only Andromeda's reminder of how far family could fall and how even kin could destroy each other. Sometimes she dreamt of Bellatrix's mad cackle and watched her niece fall to the ground.

Bellatrix had left a member of their family orphaned, a fate she would wish on no child.

No matter what she could not forgive her beloved sister for that. No matter what she had forgiven her wildest sister for, this was one thing she would never excuse and sometimes it tore at her heart.

And yet life went on. No one stopped for the woes of Narcissa Malfoy anymore, so she kept them quiet and to herself. The only people she saw regularly were her husband and son.

Narcissa Malfoy was merely a shadow of what she once was, living the life of a ghost in the shadows and trying to pretend that it didn't sting to do so. As a child she had dreamed of nothing more than being loved, being _adored_. She had done that by being the centre of attention, by drawing them in like moths to a flame.

But even the flame can be dimmed, in the tangle of family ties that had pulled her into the life she had never wanted.

And her own family had paid that price, something she would never forgive herself for.

Narcissa wasn't happy, not really, but neither was her family. She would never forget that their misery was her fault.


End file.
